Poise
by merlintriss
Summary: Spoilers up to "A Spy in the House of Love." Minor fem-slash, though decidedly one sided. Dr. Saunders centric. Under the perfection of her clothes, Adelle DeWitt is just as perfect, if only she wasn't in such pain.


Because Joss Whedon gave us Willow, it doesn't seem too much of a stretch to think he'd make one of his characters in Dollhouse open to same-sex relations.

And because I don't know if you saw it, but there was sexual tension between Dr. Saunders and Ms. Dewitt at the end of "A Spy in the House of Love."

This is my first attempt at anything resembling fem-slash, even though its mostly one sided. If that bothers you, I suggest you don't read it.

She felt that maybe she stared for a little too long. But Adelle was sitting on her table, like she never was. Adelle was never really in the line of fire, had been hurt only a couple of times. During the incident with the regression virus (contagion, whatever it was-Topher had handled that, not her) she had pulled a muscle in her leg from climbing over banisters in pencil skirts, but that hadn't been handled by Claire. She had gone out to a pricey hospital in the city and said that it was because of a fencing accident. Proper and British, Claire seriously doubted that any professional doctor would imagine her using her office as a jungle gym.

But she could tell that things were changing with the incredibly professional woman, who had, at one point, been nothing if not poised. Things were different, and she could tell that not just because she had the woman sitting in front of her now, her shirt thrown casually onto the table next to her, her creamy bra highlighted against her even paler skin.

Claire was terrified. Terrified of the beautiful, strong woman that was sitting in front of her now, who was vulnerable under her hands, even if she tried to take the power back by refusing anesthetic. She had just shot a man she had been close to for the past three years. A man she might've been closer to than she let on, her back riddled with blunt nail marks and slight bruises. Apparently Adelle liked her sex a little rough. Not with women either. Which wasn't any of Claire's business, though it might explain why the woman was colder than normal.

Her fingers trailed down to her stomach, pushing around the wound, seeing how much damage the bullet had done as it slid across her stomach. Adelle had been a little wrong when she had deemed the wound a graze. It was slightly deeper than that and would require stitches. She really shouldn't have turned down the anesthetic. Stitches would hurt like hell.

"You should really lie down," her voice was meek, and not for the first time she wished she were more confident. Confident women got what they wanted.

"I will do no such thing Dr. Saunders. Can you do this or will I have to go elsewhere?" she raised a well manicured eyebrow, though her eyes showed her pain. There wasn't a bit of Adelle that wasn't well manicured and in pain, so Claire left her alone.

Adelle really was beautiful. Strong. Independent. She ruled the Dollhouse with a strange sense of compassion and cold blooded sensibility, in a way that Claire had never fully understood. In a way that Claire would never be able to articulate. Adelle knew what she wanted and how to get it, never seemed to waver in her convictions, no matter who they hurt. She was tall and lithe, sexual in a upper class genteel way that Claire would never be. Her dark hair was almost always correctly coiffed, showing just enough of her long neck. Even now, even in pain , she was beautiful.

She got together the sutures for the wound, doing the work as quickly as possible. Really all she needed was a couple of stitches. But long nights had been spent wondering exactly what Adelle felt like under her, if her skin was really as buttery soft as she looked, if she moaned in pain like she might in pleasure. Too many unanswered questions, so she lingered just slightly too long, under the pretext of care. Her fingers rested in the curve of her hip as she let the needle slip into soft skin, skin that was just as soft as she imagined. A hand cupped under her rib, possibly to see if the stitches would hold, but more to feel her tiny waist in the way only a lover ever would.

After Angela, her last lover, had left Claire, she had felt so alone. It had made it that much easier to enter the Dollhouse, to come to terms with a life outside of the law, away from any friends she might think she had. Angela had been special, but she was sure that now, with the scars all over her face, she wouldn't even garner her attention.

Angela, who had been so much like Adelle. Strong. Independent. Careful. In power. She had been a leading attorney at one of the largest law firms in the city, Wolfram and Hart. Dark hair, lean figure from rowing, and pale porcelain skin. They'd met at a bar near where they both worked, and they'd hit it off well. Until Angela left to live with one of the partners in her firm. A man.

And she had retreated to the Dollhouse, because she was one of the better trauma surgeons in the world, something she thankfully didn't have to use very often. Instead she was the ER for broken actives, for every time a solider came back from an engagement and needed a scar almost seamlessly removed. For every dominatrix who got a little to into her work. For Echo in particular more and more. She might be doing better work outside, but here she didn't have to worry about the outside.

And with Adelle under her hands she could forget, if just for a moment, that she was alone here, that she slept in a cot behind a sliding Japanese style door, that she would lie awake at night trying to imagine how much easier it would be to be an Active. Because things weren't easy here.

She put down a bit of gauze and some medical tape to complete the work, and backed away. Adelle made some gripe about how she was fine and how it wasn't her business if she wasn't, and then pulled on her shirt, once again hiding her flawless body behind a cold veneer.

"I expect updates on all the actives by the end of the day. Especially Echo, Dr. Saunders." She exited the office with confidence in her step and Claire fell back against the table. Just another day under the city of LA.


End file.
